


A Price to Pay

by NikkiSage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Demon Deals, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Misunderstandings, Witch Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiSage/pseuds/NikkiSage
Summary: In which Castiel does not own a magical pawn shop, Dean makes poor life choices, and Castiel needs to save his ex-best friend/sorta ex-boyfriend's soul from a demon.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 110
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020





	A Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> I had the opportunity to pinch hit for an amazing art piece by Pandorana. If you haven't seen their art before, go check them out!
> 
> (Will attach an additional link to their art when link is provided)

In spite of what people claimed, Castiel did not own a magical pawn shop. His business originally started out as a regular antique store and it was only by happenstance that he started procuring magical items as well. Castiel was sensitive to magical items, and it wasn’t his fault that he always stumbled upon one whenever browsing flea markets, or auctions for new merchandise. Once a magical artifact was discovered, it never felt right to just leave it forgotten, or worse in the possession of someone who didn’t know the power behind it.

No, it was simpler to purchase the object, fix it up to be good as new, maybe remove a curse or two from it, and then have it stay in his store until he found the perfect someone that it could belong to.

Like the old lady who bought the china set that kept her teas at the perfect temperature, or the little boy with the kite that could fly even on windless days, or the poor man who bought a coat that would always keep him warm no matter the temperature outside.

There were also powerful weapons in his collection, tools that could only be wielded by heroes of great fortitude, but for every _real_ weapon, Castiel had five replicas that he sold to dissuade people from buying the real thing.

There were also trinkets that were meant to protect people. Castiel even made prayer charms that were surprisingly popular and helped keep anxiety at bay, or provide more energy, or more focus, or whatever the person needed to get through their day.

But regardless of the fact that the majority of Castiel’s store was mundane merchandise of clothes, jewelry, and furniture, he was still known as the “weird, witch guy with the magical pawn shop”.

Unfortunately, that reputation meant that he was the talk of the town and would get the strangest customers, and some of them demanded the most outlandish things.

The most recent customer was a particularly aggravating man.

“I told you that we're closed,” Castiel growled, pushing himself out of his chair so he could glower at the rude patron who had the nerve to show up at his store.

“Yeah, well your sign says open.”

“I also have a sign that says I have the right to turn down business, especially from shady people.”

The man rolled his perfect green-hazel eyes, “Come on, Cas, are we really going to do this now?”

Castiel cringed at the familiar nickname. “No, we’re not doing anything because you’re leaving, Dean!”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, but he definitely raised his head higher and returned the glare with one of his own. “Well too bad, because I’m not going anywhere. I know we went our separate ways all those years ago—”

“Separate?” Castiel was usually mild-mannered, but the gall of the Midwesterner had him raising his voice and trembling with rage. “Is that what you called it? Because I would use a stronger term that's also more accurate. Like how you _betrayed_ me? Or what about the time you had me run out of my childhood home just because of what I am?”

Dean’s eyes slid to the floor for a moment, chastised for a second before hardening. “It was my Dad and the other hunters that had you banned from Lawrence, but you know the rules: no witches in Lawrence!”

“I’m sorry I had the audacity to be born with the magical gene then,” Castiel seethed. “Now get out!”

“Please, Cas,” Dean begged, all of his bravado slipping away. He seemed both younger and older this way; vulnerable and scared in a way that Castiel hadn’t seen since they were young boys. But at the same time he was hagridden, with shadows under his eyes that showed he hadn’t slept in days, and wrinkles that shouldn’t belong to a man in his early thirties. “I fucked up a lot of things in my life—especially everything that happened with us—and I have no right to be asking you for this favor, but I’m desperate. I need you, Cas.”

Castiel gripped his counter, trying to fight the wave of emotions and memories that were mercilessly smashing against him; as angry and as unforgiving as the ocean tides during a hurricane. There were only two other times that Dean told him that he needed him.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_The first had been when Dean was just a young boy; back when he was all gap teeth, freckles, and hair that was sun-bleached blonde. Though at that moment he had red eyes, a snotty nose, and struggled to breathe between heart-wrenching sobs. His mom had been murdered, and his father had run off to hunt down the creature responsible; leaving Dean and his brother behind at Castiel’s foster father’s home. Dean had been glued to his side back then, too afraid to lose any more loved ones._

_“Please, Cas,” He had begged, burying his wet face against Castiel’s chest. Castiel had been bigger than him back then. “I need you.”_

_The last time had been one of the summers when they were both teenagers, the day Castiel got into a motorcycle accident._

_Castiel had always wanted a motorcycle growing up, and the first thing he did when he had turned eighteen was purchase one. He swore to his foster father that he would be careful on the road, took every safety course available, and even bought all of the necessary protective equipment. The only thing he hadn’t been prepared for was drunk drivers. An especially aggressive drunk had gotten too close behind Castiel and sent him flying off his bike._

_He woke up a day later in the hospital, tubes in his nose, the loud beeping of a heart monitor, and Dean to the side of his bed, clenching his hand._

_Dean’s eyes had been closed, and he was muttering a desperate prayer under his breath, which might have been the first time in Dean’s life that he had prayed. Castiel couldn’t make out every word he said, but he could still remember the one line._

_“Please, don’t take him away from me. Please, just let him wake up. I need Cas. I need him so much.”_

_Dean almost jumped in surprise when Castiel squeezed his hand back, but those green eyes were filled with so much joy and relief that Castiel assumed that he was forgiven for the scare._

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was still surreal, though, to look back on those days. Back to when Dean still loved him.

Forcing himself back to the present, Castiel grabbed one of the prayer charms and focused on having a calmed mind. Only once he felt the charm ebb away his fears and longing, did he turn his attention back to a Dean that was almost twenty years older than the one he left behind.

The prayer charms did nothing to stop the fury.

“You need me? I assume this means you couldn’t find anyone else to help you? That you only sought me out after all these years because now I’m _useful_ to you?” Castiel snarled.

“I… fuck, that’s not what I meant, but I’m not going to lie to you and say that you aren’t my last shot,” Dean’s face was guilty, and Castiel did his best to ignore the pull that demanded he comfort Dean. “I didn’t want to get you involved, I tried really hard to let you live your own life, but I’m running out of time to fix this, and every psychic that I went to for help kept pointing me this direction.”

That made Castiel grumbled. It always bothered him how psychics were welcomed into the hunting community, but white witches weren’t given the same appreciation. “What exactly did these psychics tell you?”

“You know, vague psychic-y stuff. Missouri told me that a witch would be able to break my contract right before the deadline. A bunch of others eventually led me towards the West Coast, but it was Pamela who gave me your name.” Dean shrugged, his fingers twitching nervously on the counter. “Her exact words were ‘only Castiel can save you from hell’. And well, it wasn’t so hard to find you. Not really many Castiels or Novaks on the West Coast, and only one Castiel Novak in the entire country.”

Castiel knew it was stupid to go back to his first name, but he has assumed that hunters had stopped looking for him over a decade ago.

“Have to admit, I wasn't expecting you to end up in Oregon,” Dean said, slowly dancing those twitchy fingers of his over towards the bubble gum display, but was swatted away before he could steal a piece. “I thought you would have stayed in Illinois.”

“That would have been too predictable,” Rubbing a hand against the furrows of his brow, Castiel forced himself to breathe out the anger. “What kind of mess did you get yourself into? And please tell me that your psychic was being over dramatic about the hell part.”

“Not really. I need help getting out of a demon deal.” Dean said sheepishly, his tone lacking the severity of the situation. He sounded more like he admitted that he was short on cash, instead of the fact that he potentially sold his soul to the devil.

“That’s not possible,” Castiel muttered before raising his voice. “How does a hunter who doesn’t trust anything magical, end up making a deal with a demon? Have you lost your mind?”

“Wouldn’t be too surprised,” Dean shrugged. “And what happened was, I was alone and desperate.”

“What could make you so desperate that you thought selling your soul was the answer?”

“Because Sammy was dead!” Dean shouted, finally losing his own calm.

Castiel froze, not expecting that. He could even feel tears start to prickle at the back of his eyes as he thought about Sam being dead. He’d known Sam since he was a baby, knew the day he took his first steps, and was even around when Sammy spoke his first word. The thought of him dying young felt so wrong, and he could only imagine how much harder it must have affected Dean.

Sam was practically Dean’s son.

“It happened almost ten years ago. A… a super strong freak killed Sam in front of me and I… I didn’t know what to do. He died in my arms, and the last thing I told him was that everything was going to be alright. So I had to make it right.”

“So you traded your life for his?” Castiel had to restrain himself from pelting his useless prayer charm at Dean’s dumb head. Part of him wondered if it would make a hollow sound when it struck, because Castiel doubted that there was anything in Dean's cranium.

“Sam’s life was going places,” Dean argued. “He got into Stanford for a full ride, he was going to become a lawyer one day, and had all these plans about saving the world the legal way. Hell, I still stand by my decision; considering he’s now a big shot defense attorney, and he’s got a beautiful wife that’s way out of his league. And what do I got to show in that amount of time? Nothing.”

“I think that’s more to do with the fact that you refused to live outside of your father’s shadow.” Castiel gritted his teeth. His memories of John were never pleasant, even before the fallout.

“Shows you what you know. I haven’t heard from him since before I made the deal,” Dean’s shoulder slumped. “I, uh, never really forgave him after everything that happened with you. He accused you of brainwashing me, and it was only after you were gone that I realized it was the other way around.”

Castiel felt like the air had been knocked out of him. For years he had dreamt of Dean coming to his senses and apologizing to him. For admitting that he was wrong, and finally declaring that he did…

Castiel shook his head, not wanting to go down that trail of thought. Dean had over fourteen years to make amends, and he had only chosen to reach out now because he needed a favor.

“What even makes you think that I can get you out of a demon deal?” Castiel finally voiced.

“I don’t, but I have the original copy of the contract and nothing left to lose.” Dean shrugged, before opening up his jacket and pulling out the long, yellowed contract.

“How did you get your hand on this?” Castiel asked in awe. From his position, he could see that the contract was labeled as “Alastair’s Magical Contract”, not a demon contract, which meant it might be easier to break. Though it seemed the further down the contract went, the tinier the fine print got.

Grumbling, Castiel grabbed his reading glasses from behind the counter and gestured at Dean to hand over the legal document. However, Dean was frozen in place.

“You have glasses now?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Reading glasses. I’m thirty-six, Dean, my eyesight is going. Now, are you going to tell me how you got your hands on this?”

“Believe it or not, I made friends with a demon who got the original contract for me, in exchange for finding a way to power down Alastair. The demon gets his turf and power, with Alastair out of the picture, and is one step closer to being the King of Hell or something like that.”

Castiel felt insulted, “You’re friends with a demon now, when being friends with a white witch was too much?”

“Cas—”

“Nevermind,” Castiel shook his head and instead focused on the paper. “I have reading to do.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see Dean shift nervously in front of him, before the younger man got bored and started to explore the aisles of the store.

Castiel read through the contract four times before acknowledging the giant loophole there. “I figured it out.”

“Really?” Dean returned to the counter, sporting a cowboy hat and a feathery boa. Castiel lifted up one end of the boa, with his eyebrow raised questioningly, and Dean burnt red. “I got bored. Anyway, how do I get out of this deal? Is it something as easy as just salting and burning the contract?”

“Unfortunately, it’s more complicated than that,” Castiel batted the boa away and watched as some pink feathers rained down onto his counter. “This Alastair is a high-level demon, but he’s also extremely arrogant. This contract lists Alastair as the only creature capable of the rights to your soul, and the deal can’t fall into anyone else's hands.”

Castiel almost scoffed at the creature’s hubris.

“Okay, so that means I have to...? Come on, Cas, I know there’s more to it than that.”

“It’s simple,” Castiel said, slowly rolling the contract back up and handing it to Dean. “We kill Alastair.”

“There’s no way to kill a demon,” Dean put the contract back inside of his jacket, frowning deeply. “Trust me, John’s wasted almost three decades trying to find a way to kill those bastards and he still hasn’t found shit.”

“Has he ever found an angel blade?”

“A what?”

Castiel turned to the weapon display case behind him and reached out for the only true angel blade in the line of decoys. He carefully laid the thin, but long dagger in front of Dean so he could view it, but kept a hand on the hilt to prevent Dean from absconding with it.

Just because he was willing to help Dean didn’t mean he trusted him.

“According to legend, these are made out of the talons of angels. They’re powerful enough to kill any creature, be it demon, vampire, werewolf, or even witch.”

“How did you get your hands on one of these?”

Actually, he had two.

“The perks of my magic. I’m naturally drawn to magical artifacts, and I did a lot of traveling across the countryside before I settled in Oregon.”

“Oh?” Dean tried to sound nonchalant, but it was difficult to pull off while fidgeting with a pink boa. He clearly wanted to ask more.

“Yes, well I didn’t have many options left considering I was literally run out of my hometown at gunpoint.”

Dean flinched, “Right.”

Castiel didn’t dignify that with a response and instead went behind the counter, rummaging around for an old road map and some pencils.

“You know, I’m sorry for what happened back then. Trust me I’ve regretted it every day. But I was just a kid, and Dad...and John went ahead and—”

“I don’t need to hear apologies that are over a decade too late,” Castiel grouched, loudly setting his supplies onto the counter. “I understand that you were young, that you idolized John to an unhealthy amount, and that you were going through a gay panic, but I refuse to condone the fact that you waited this long to seek me out.”

“G-gay panic?” Dean choked.

Castiel rolled his eyes as he spread out an Oregon state map. “I think it’s fair to call it that. What else would you call it when a guy kisses you one day, and then has his dad there to kick your ass the very next?”

“It didn’t happen that way!” Dean denied, but couldn’t look Castiel in the eye.

Castiel glowered at him, before returning to the map, and drawing three circles.

“What’s in those areas?” Dean asked, leaning over, and obstructing Castiel’s view.

As well as getting feathers in his nostrils. Blowing them out, Castiel shoved Dean out of his space so that he could see the map again. “Those are three areas that are sparsely populated. A good place to summon a demon.”

“We’re summoning Alastair now?”

“There’s no other way to get the jump on him to kill him. We summon him inside a devil’s trap, and then we… what was it you used to say? Gut him like a pig?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. You know, cocky is an interesting look on you.”

“I don’t flirt with closeted men,” Castiel smoothly replied, stepping out of Dean’s reach, but still close enough to see the way the man’s eyes widened, and how his cheeks flushed a bright crimson. “Though before I start ringing up prices, I hope you know that I’ll be charging you additional service fees.”

“Additional? For performing the ritual in person? Or because this is a high-level demon?”

“Both, but I also hold the right to charge a dumbass fee for whenever people get in over their heads, and make poor life decisions that I have to fix,” Castiel replied. “However, I don’t charge you money for that. Instead, I want an object that you hold a lot of emotional attachment towards.”

“Wow, buddy, let’s get one thing straight, Baby’s off the table,” Dean narrowed his eyes in thought. “Yeah, I’d risk my soul over her.”

“I don’t need your Impala, no matter how much of a classic it is,” though Castiel was impressed that Dean's beloved Baby was still running and was now in Dean’s custody. “I’d rather have something that can fit in the store.”

Dean nodded, “Okay, I’ll think it over.”

“Good. I need to go into the back room and find out what supplies I have on hand, and then I’ll ring you up.”

The back room was where all his dangerous “witchy” stuff was kept. Rows and rows of spellbooks, a cabinet that included dry spell ingredients, and a giant freezer for… the ingredients that were more susceptible to spoiling.

Castiel grabbed one of the demon summoning spell books, and flipped until he reached the name Alastair.

“Acacia powder… have that,” Castiel murmured to himself, “oil of Abramelin… just got in a new shipment, have plenty of candles, and just need to practice drawing that sigil and memorizing the spell.”

Castiel quickly took a picture of the page before returning the book to its proper place. From there, it only took another couple of minutes for him to gather the rest of the ingredients.

Though apparently enough time had passed for Dean to do another costume change. This time he had on a Captain’s hat, a royal blue coat, and an ascot.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion, and Dean shrugged. “If you don’t want me going through your stuff then you shouldn’t keep leaving me alone.”

“I apologize, I didn’t realize I was dealing with a child,” Castiel began ringing Dean up for the price of the angel blade, the use of the spell, the acacia, the oil, candles, and even threw in the prayer charm that Dean made him waste. “That will be eight hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Jeezus, you aren’t cheap.”

“Actually, I’m pretty cheap when you realize that I’m charging you less for the price of your life and soul than you’d pay for a used car.”

“Sure this is before the dumbass fee?” Dean ruefully handed Castiel over his credit card.

“If I was charging cash price for that, your total would be more than a used car.” Castiel suspiciously checked the card, but was relieved to see that it was listed in his own name. “Not running credit card scams like John?”

“Nah, I mainly work for Bobby, and hunt on the side whenever I get the itch.”

Castiel passed Dean over his card and receipt. He tried to seem indifferent about the name, but couldn’t stop his hand from shaking. “Bobby Singer? How is he doing?”

“Better now,” Dean’s shoulders were tense as he quickly scribbled his name on the receipt. “He moved to South Dakota after… what happened to you. Hell, it took him about five years to look me in the eye again.”

Perhaps Dean thought it would make him happier to hear that, but it only made him feel more hurt and betrayed. “Why didn’t he try reaching out to me, then?”

Dean jostled his ridiculous captain’s hat. “Look, Cas—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Dean,” Castiel dumped his purchases into one of his eco-friendly bags. “All I want is for us to get this over with as soon as possible, and then we can get back to our lives.”

Because Dean didn’t get it. Dean might have learned the error of his ways, and at least stopped being his father’s perfect soldier, but Dean still had his brother, and now had Castiel's foster father. Castiel? Castiel had been alone this whole time.

Dean’s jaw clenched with an audible pop, before giving a stiff nod.

“And Dean?” Castiel gestured at the ridiculous array of gaudy clothing Dean had donned. “Make sure that you put everything back the way you found them.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They decided the best place to perform the summoning spell was up towards the mountains, and they agreed to each take their own car so that Dean wouldn’t be responsible for driving him home on the way back.

It was a long drive, and Castiel couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened that day all those years ago. Or rather what had happened the night of Dean’s eighteenth birthday.

_Castiel had been twenty-two at the time and disappointed that no one from Dean’s family was doing anything special about it. John had disappeared again, and Sam was at a winter formal. A winter formal that Castiel expected Dean to be at._

_“It’s fun for the freshmen because it’s the only real formal they get, but it’s cheesy for the seniors. You should know that, Cas.”_

_“You're talking to the senior who spent the whole formal hanging out with his freshman friend,” Castiel reminded him, playfully jabbing him in the ribs._

_“Yeah but I’m awesome, and was even from back then. Plus, if I went then that means I would just be third-wheeling with my little brother, and that’s just **embarrassing**.”_

_Castiel rolled his eyes, “Don’t you mean you would be hanging out with Lisa and your friends?”_

_“You mean my ex-girlfriend and all of **her** friends? No thanks. I rather hang around with my best friend. He’s a weird guy, but I like him.” Dean elbowed him back._

_Castiel laughed. “You’re plenty weird as well. Now tell me what you want to do, because I raced through two different essays earlier in the week to make sure that the rest of my night is dedicated to you.”_

_“Aww, Cas, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.” Dean gushed before winking. Castiel did his best to hide his reddening face. “Thanks, though. I know it’s not easy getting free time with college classes and all, and you really didn’t have to come all this way just to—”_

_“Yes I did,” Cas cut him off. “It’s your eighteenth birthday, Dean. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”_

_Dean gave him one of those shy smiles that Castiel had loved so much. The kind where his bravado slipped and his green eyes sparkled with life. Though the smile turned into a mockery of the expression, a smile that Castiel hated as it was empty and filled with self-loathing. “Well, it didn’t stop everyone else from bailing.”_

_“I’m not everyone else, Dean,” Castiel promised. “I’m here with you, and I’m not leaving your side. So just tell me - what you want to do?”_

_Dean licked his lips, “Umm movies? We can go rent a movie, and gorge ourselves on junk food? I mean, have to celebrate the fact that I can legally rent R rated videos now.”_

_“Sounds perfect.”_

_It really was. They watched Terminator 1 and 2, both of them curled close together on the couch and sharing two blankets because it was the middle of winter, and John was too cheap to raise the heat. Or at least that was the excuse they were telling each other. By the end of the second movie, Castiel was getting tired and leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder. It was strange that the boy was now the same height as him, but it made Castiel feel better to know that he could now lean on Dean for support._

_“Hey, Cas? Can I ask you something?”_

_“You know you can ask me anything, Dean.”_

_“Do you think that I’ll be stuck being a hunter like my dad, and my mom’s side of the family?”_

_“You don’t have to be a hunter if you don’t want to be,” Castiel said, slowly shifting away from Dean, and hoping that Dean didn’t notice the way his heart pounded a bit faster._

_“Yeah, but I don’t really know what else I’d be good at. I mean, I’m not smart like you or Sammy—”_

_Castiel scoffed in disbelief._

_“And besides hunting, the only other thing I’m good at is working with cars.”_

_“Then maybe take a gap year and work for Uncle Bobby?” Cas suggested with a yawn, unconsciously moving closer to Dean. “See if you’re willing to make a career out of it. And if you’re still interested in hunting, you can bug Bobby for how he does it and balances it with having a real job.”_

_Dean stiffened, and Castiel immediately apologized._

_“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to insult your father.”_

_“No, I get it. Honestly, I wished my dad was more like yours. At least we’d know where he was.”_

_Castiel didn’t like that Dean was feeling down, and decided to try to cheer him up. “You know what you haven’t done yet? You haven’t opened my birthday present.”_

_Dean’s eyes widened. “I thought your gift was spending time with me?”_

_“I can’t gift you something that’s also a present for me,” Castiel teased. “Now hold on, I left it in my trunk, so just close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”_

_Dean obliged but chuckled. “With this much of a fuss, you better be giving me something awesome.”_

_“I think you’ll enjoy it,” Castiel promised, before sprinting off to his car and rescuing the wrapped gift. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”_

_Dean looked at the familiar shape and smirked, “A record? Don’t you know I have a ton of them already?”_

_“You have a ton of your **dad’s** , and you’ve said that he complains if you play his records too much,” Castiel nervously watched as Dean unwrapped the gift and saw the embossed title of Led Zeppelin II. “That’s why I got you your own copy of your favorite record. This way you can listen to it as much as you want.”_

_“Wow, Cas, this is… This is friggin’ amazing. Thanks.”_

_Castiel smiled, soaking in Dean’s joy. “Go ahead, I know you’re dying to put_ Ramble On _on repeat.”_

_“You know me so well,” Dean teased, before digging out his dad’s record player, and putting the record on. He was so familiar with this album that he knew exactly what groove to put the needle on to play his favorite song._

_It didn’t take long for Dean to loudly sing along, and Dean didn’t stop poking and prodding Castiel until he joined in._

_It was by the third run through that Castiel had to bow out, and Dean joined him on the couch._

_“What happened with you and Lisa anyway? I thought you both were happy?”_

_Dean shrugged. “She just didn’t get me as much as I thought she did. That and she doesn’t know about the hunting community, so there weren’t too many things we could talk about.”_

_Castiel nodded, he could understand that._

_“What about you and Hannah? Whatever happened to her?”_

_“Oh, she didn’t like me hanging around you so much. She gave me the ultimatum of her or you and…” Castiel shrugged as well. “Honestly, I only dated her because she asked me out, and I would have felt bad turning her down.”_

_“Wow, Cas, we should change your name to Casanova instead. Didn’t realize you were a heartbreaker,” Dean teased, but his cheeks were starting to turn pink. “Weird that she was jealous of me.”_

_Castiel shrugged, not surprised. He was always bad about hiding how important Dean was to him._

_“Wanna know something funny? Lisa was jealous of you too.”_

_It was Castiel’s turn to blush, as he wondered if he looked like some creepy and pathetic stalker. A college kid hopelessly crushing on a high schooler._

_“Have any idea why everyone gets so weird like that?” Dean pressed, licking his lips nervously, and shifting closer to Castiel._

_Castiel gulped, and tried to refrain from looking at Dean’s plump lips, but failing._

_“It’s almost like they think you like me or something. You know, romantically.”_

_Castiel was so nervous he could feel the magic running through him become agitated._

_“Are they wrong, Cas?”_

_“I,” Castiel gulped again, struggling to remember how to string words together. “I can say that I don’t romantically like you.”_

_“Oh,” Dean said, and Castiel could feel the disappointment run through the younger boy’s body. He saw the way his eyes dimmed, and the way his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, that would be pretty ridiculous to think anyway. You liking me? Another dude? Not to mention the whole you being in college thing? It’s too weird.”_

_“I don’t like you romantically,” Castiel said, his voice shaking. “Because I already love you.”_

_Dean’s mouth widened and no words came out._

_“Honestly, I’ve loved you for years, but I never wanted to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin_ _what we have. Because you are the best thing I have in my life, and I need—”_

_Castiel’s words were cut off as Dean swallowed his words and devoured his lips. For a second, Castiel was stunned, but in the next, he was pulling Dean closer, cupping his freckled cheek like he always longed to do._

_That’s when every single light bulb in the Winchester house shattered, and Castiel saw the look of horror growing on Dean’s face as he realized what just happened._

_Castiel had apologized, promising to clean up the whole mess and replace the bulbs. Dean said nothing, and sat rigid on the couch._

_Castiel rushed to the store to get new bulbs, and Dean still hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch by the time Castiel returned._

_“Dean, are you okay? I’m going to fix everything, I promise.”_

_Castiel tried so hard, only getting to see Dean clearly once the lights were back on, and the glass cleared. That's when he noticed the giant wound across Dean’s cheek, and the streaks of drying blood._

_“I’m so sorry, Dean. Don’t worry, I can fix this too.” Castiel cupped Dean’s uninjured cheek, and tried not to feel hurt at the way Dean tensed at the touch. Within seconds the magic flowed through and the injured side healed over, leaving only the trace of dried blood._

_“I’ll wash that off. I’ll be right back.”_

_“Cas…” Dean finally spoke, and Castiel remained rooted in his seat. “You’re a witch?”_

_Castiel bit his lip and nodded._

_“How… how long?”_

_Castiel could only assume he was born a witch, but he hadn’t always known. “Since I was sixteen.”_

_“So you’ve been hiding it this whole time?”_

_Castiel slowly nodded. “I… I just never found the chance to explain.”_

_“I think you should go.”_

_Castiel froze._

_“Please, Cas. I… I have a lot to think over, and I can’t do it with you here.”_

_“There’s nothing to think over,” Castiel pleaded. “This is a small detail that just never had the chance to come up. It changes **nothing** , Dean.”_

_“It changes **everything**!” Dean snapped, leaping off the couch. “Just… just go home, Cas!”_

_Castiel stiffly got up, his body running on autopilot as his brain tried to catch up with what had happened. “A-alright. Happy Birthday, Dean.”_

_Castiel should have realized how wrong things were when Dean didn’t even tell him goodbye. He desperately tried to convince himself that Dean just needed time to process everything, and Castiel just had to give him some space._

_Instead his worst nightmare came true._

_That very next night Castiel got run out of town by a bunch of angry hunters, given the ultimatum of leave or die. There were some faces he wasn’t surprised to see from the group. John Winchester, and the Campbells leading the charge, and some of the younger hunter recruits like Gordon Walker. The one face he wasn’t expecting there, was Dean’s._

_Dean, who looked at Castiel like he was a monster. “If you ever try to touch me again, I swear I’ll end you myself.”_

_Castiel was only grateful that his foster father loved him enough to pack up his essentials, and give him a burner phone before he headed out._

_Bobby also gave him three instructions to follow that day. 1. Drive as far and as fast as he could. 2. Change his name. 3. Never look back._

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It pissed Castiel off now to know that Bobby could have gone looking for him and didn’t. He probably didn’t want to have a witch for a son, especially for someone who wasn’t even blood.

‘Family don't end in blood’ unless the supernatural was involved.

After reliving all these details, Castiel was once again livid when they finally reached the cabin they had rented, and couldn't look at Dean. Instead, he stormed past the man, and his shiny, black car, so he could get inside the cabin. He was in the process of moving all of the living room furniture out of the way by the time Dean finally rejoined him.

“What do you need help with?”

“You know how summonings work,” Castiel grumbled. “Be useful and clear the space.”

They were silent for the rest of the evening, and every now and then Castiel would catch Dean glancing over at him, but he refused to acknowledge Dean. As much as he wanted to forgive Dean, Castiel knew the moment he did he would be opening himself to new wounds.

Castiel had Dean draw out the sigils while he prepared the ingredients. Once done, he placed the bowl in the middle of the sigil, and lit the nine candles marking each point.

“Are you ready to perform the summoning?”

Dean nodded, getting his trusty blade ready. “You sure you can keep yourself cloaked from a demon?”

“It’s easiest to hide when no one is expecting you, and you don’t exactly have the reputation to align yourself with a witch.”

Dean snicked, “Rowena would be insulted.”

“Rowena?”

“Yeah, Cas. She’s like a three hundred year old witch, but she’s grown on me. Her son is the demon I’m friends with. I’m also friends with a vampire, and a family of werewolves.”

Castiel clenched his jaws tighter, not knowing how to respond.

“I’m also besties with an awesome lesbian, and not in the closet anymore,” Dean added, shocking Castiel further. “I told you, I’m not the dumb kid I was back then. I’ve changed, Cas.”

Dean studied him closely, clearly waiting for Castiel’s reaction, but Castiel honestly had no idea how to respond.

Apparently that was the wrong answer.

Dean sighed. “You go do your witchy thing and hide. I’ll count backward from thirty and at zero I’ll cut my hand and do the incantation.”

Castiel slowly counted in his head, sliding his own angel blade out from his trusty coat sleeve, and gripping it tightly.

_**“Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me.”** _

The candles slowly burned out, one by one, and when the last one blew out, the form of a tall man appeared in the center of the sigil, as well as the pungent smell of sulfur.

“Dean-o,” the slimy voice greeted. “Long time no see. Let me guess, you’re trying to find a way to weasel out of our deal?”

Dean didn’t reply, just tightened the grip he had on his silver blade.

“Hate to tell you, Dean-o, but that contract is ironclad. Or should I say sulfur-clad? Either way, that soul of yours is mine,” The demon reached one of his long arms towards Dean. “And I have so many wonderful plans for what I’m going to do with it. We’re going to have fun for a long, long time.”

Dean stepped out of the demon’s reach, and the demon tried to move closer, but frowned when he could move no further. The demon looked up and smirked at the devil’s trap painted above the ceiling.

“Is this your big plan? Are you going to keep me trapped in here forever?” Alastair chuckled, a sound that sent every hair on Castiel’s body on end. “Stupid boy, don’t you know that I’m not the one that drags you to Hell? That’s all on the Hellhounds.”

“Not exactly,” Dean said, finally pulling out the angel blade. The demon stiffened at the sight of the weapon. “Heard this little baby can kill bitches like you. Wanted to test it out.”

Alastair smiled, “Is that your plan then? You want to kill me? I hate to break it to you, Dean, but your soul is mine and only mine. If I die, I drag you to oblivion with me!”

Dean staggered, not expecting that response, but quickly recovered and put his cocky mask back on. “Ehh, oblivion sounds better than hell. Not really sure I really want to believe in the afterlife crap anyway.”

“Trust me, boy, I know how to drag the seconds into feeling like centuries of agony. I swear on my dying breath to rip your soul to shreds. Because it belongs to me!”

Castiel finally had enough and snuck behind the demon to drag his angel blade across Alastair’s back. “Actually, you can’t do anything. You can’t own a soul that has already been freely given away to another. Dean Winchester’s soul has been mine for years, and you can’t touch it!”

Alastair twisted his head in an angle that would have cervically dislocated a normal human, just so he could glare at Castiel. “And who are you, Pretty Boy?”

“His soulmate,” Castiel growled, before plunging the blade straight through the demon’s heart. The demon didn’t even have time to scream before it was scorched from the inside by the holy magic in the blade. Castiel quickly retrieved the blade and wiped the blood off on the corpse’s clothes.

He refused to look at Dean. “We should clean up as much as we can now, and deal with the rest tomorrow.”

“Cas…”

“I’m tired, Dean,” his voice revealed the exhaustion he felt. “Let’s… let’s talk about this in the morning, before you leave.”

“Are you just kicking me out?”

“I’m just preparing myself for the inevitable.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Despite his best attempts to sleep, Castiel ended up lying awake the whole night, and dreading the morning. He didn’t know what he was more afraid of; getting out of bed and discovering that Dean had already left, or finding Dean waiting for the answers that Castiel was not ready to give.

Open up the scars that he had thought finally healed.

Castiel finally gave up as the sun started to rise, and was astonished to find out that Dean had already beaten him to the kitchen and was brewing a pot of coffee.

“Mornin’,” Dean greeted softly. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Castiel shook his head.

“So, uh,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Soulmates, huh?”

“I refuse to talk about this before two cups of coffee,” Castiel replied.

“Cas, I’m trying here,” Dean begged. “I don’t know what you want from me. I get that I’m way overdue on the apology front, and I tried to do it sooner, but by the time I finally found you, you had already moved on.”

“Moved on? You mean the fact that I own my own business? Is that moving on? Well, I hate to break it to you, but I had to do something so I would have money to eat and afford things. Or would you have preferred it if you found me in a homeless shelter?”

Dean stared at Castiel like he said the strangest thing he ever heard, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t exactly expect you to own a magical pawn shop—”

“It’s not a pawn shop!”

“Whatever, but I’m proud of you. For everything. But I’m talking about the fact that you have a wife and kid!”

“What?”

Dean’s face blushed red, as he shifted from foot to foot. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it to come out all creepy like that. And I get the fact that after all the shit that we put you through, that you wouldn’t want us to know about your family, but I swear, no one knows about them. Well, you know, besides me, Sam, and Bobby.”

“Dean… what the hell are you talking about?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I know I should have tried to find you sooner, but I was a dumb kid. I was twenty-one when I finally took the stick out of my ass, and realized that Dad was the one that was filling my head with lies. But Sam was still a minor, and I was his guardian, so I couldn’t go off searching for you. And then the next year Sam technically died, and I just… I couldn’t leave him. By the time I finally could look for you, I was twenty-four and too late.”

Castiel tilted his head, not comprehending what Dean’s words meant.

“I was hoping you’d head towards Chicago, since that’s where your dream school was. You know, before—”

“Before you begged me not to go.” Castiel nodded, remembering the night when a fourteen-year-old Dean appeared drunk on his doorstep, pleading for Cas to stay local.

“Yeah, figured Illinois was the first place to check, and I went through all your favorite character names when we used to play D&D. Thought you might pick something that was familiar. And that’s when I got the match for Jimmy Novak.”

The magic under Castiel’s skin twitched at the name. For the longest time, Castiel had been obsessed with the name Jimmy Novak. His favorite teddy bear had that name, he had an imaginary brother that name, and then he became one of his favorite fictional characters to play. Dean had often joked that it was his alter ego.

Which was why, when Castiel ran, he didn’t use that name. In fact, when he first went on the run, he randomly chose a last name from a phone book, and a first name from a baby book so that he couldn’t be tracked down by those who knew him.

“At first I had my doubts, especially when it listed you as married to Amelia, but I had to look anyway,” Dean continued, his gaze flicking from Castiel’s to the coffee pot. “But then I saw you. Both of you, and Amelia was pregnant, and you were so happy. I… I never saw you look so carefree before. Like a completely different person.”

“Dean… I never used the identity of Jimmy Novak. And I have no idea who this Amelia is that you’re talking about,” Castiel said slowly.

Dean groaned. “I get it, I fucked up, but you don’t need to deny—”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“Dammit, Cas, I took pictures!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Prove it.”

Dean grumbled, before pulling at his phone and flipping through the photo album. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to be creepy, but Bobby didn’t want to believe me either.”

Castiel carefully flipped through each picture, spanning over a course of a couple of years. As he scrutinized each photo, he grew more and more unsettled to see his face on a stranger in each shot. Pictures of this Jimmy with his beautiful wife, and his daughter who had eyes that were the same bright sapphire as his.

“Dean. I’m not lying, this isn’t me.”

Castiel reached the last photo, where Jimmy Novak must have caught a glimpse of Dean taking photos of him, as he had a look of horror on his face. “Is this… is this why you didn’t reach out? You thought you found me, but that I didn’t want you to?”

Dean nodded dumbly. “I mean, you called the cops, and didn't answer Bobby's letters. It seemed like a big dismissal.”

“Dean, I never went to Chicago. In fact, I completely avoided the midwest. I first ran away towards Maine, and once the winters became too brutal, I started moving out west until I fell in love with Oregon.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

Castiel nodded. “I’m mad at you because you never tried to find me. But… you thought you did this whole time?”

Dean had to take a seat, looking pale. “That… that really isn't you?”

“Dean, I couldn’t even love another person if I wanted to.” Castiel sighed. “Which is part of the reason why I need to talk to you this morning.”

“Is this the whole soulmate thing?”

Castiel nodded. “I’m still learning what exactly a white witch is capable of. From what I gathered, white witches can only strengthen and guide things found in nature, and they are sensitive to soul imprints. Sometimes, when you love something enough, a sliver of your soul gets embedded into it.”

“Gross.”

“Then don’t let me point out how many slivers your Baby has.”

Dean made a face. “Anyway, what does this have to do with soulmates?”

“I’m getting to that,” Castiel tapped his fingers and realized that the coffee maker was finally done brewing, and quickly grabbed a cup for courage. “Soulmates are similar in that effect. They’re the person you continuously choose to be with, and who you keep offering pieces of yourself to, until they eventually have all of you, and you have all of them. Figuratively speaking.”

“Isn’t there a literal component too? You said Alastair couldn’t touch me because—”

“Because you already belonged to me. Well, I literally don’t carry your soul around with me, and vice versa, but I do have... a brand? I guess that's the closest term. I have a brand on your soul? And you have a brand on mine. It’s why we can’t… or at least why I can’t love another person.”

“Is this soulmate thing only a witch thing?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, but white witches are more sensitive to it. I… I can feel your mark on my soul when I concentrate.”

“Okay,” Dean rubbed his forehead. “Just let me get this clear. You don't hate me?”

“No.”

“You don’t have a secret family?”

“Not in the way you think, but now I’m questioning if Jimmy is my actual twin. I’m an orphan with no record of my birth, so it’s possible.”

“Okay, but the most important question is… do you forgive me?”

Castiel pursed his lips. “You got to answer some of my questions first.”

Dean nodded, “I guess that’s fair.”

“You aren’t bothered that I’m a witch?”

“Dude, I’ve watched Benny suck on a blood bag like it was a friggin’ Capri-Sun pouch. Trust me, you’re now my most normal friend.”

“You’re no longer in the closet?”

“Everyone important knows, and Charlie even made me go to pride and everything. By the way, I’m bisexual.”

“Demisexual.” Castiel replied in turn. “How do you feel about cats? I have two.”

Dean made a face. “I’m allergic.”

“White witch. I can get rid of your allergies for life.”

“Okay. I’ll accept your fur babies as long as you don’t judge me for my Baby.”

“I already know about your co-dependency with your car.” Castiel rolled his eyes while Dean laughed.

Castiel had forgotten how much he loved that sound, and how it flooded his body with warmth and happiness.

The only thing he missed more was that shy smile that Dean was giving him now. “So looks like there’s just one last question to ask—”

“Exactly, Dean,” Castiel moved over towards Dean, abandoning his coffee cup on the counter, and leaning so he could study those brilliant green eyes. “Do you still love me?”

“Cas, I never _stopped_.” Dean admitted, his eyes pleading him to believe him.

“I never stopped either, which is why I can forgive you.”

Dean launched himself at Castiel, as if he was afraid that Castiel would change his mind if Dean didn’t make an immediate claim, and Castiel clung to him, daring any force to attempt to tear them apart again. When their lips collided, Castiel could feel his magic and soul resonate with joy. Castiel drank deeply into the kiss, memorizing every taste, every feel, and every sound that Dean uttered. He wanted to remember this moment as the day he finally got everything he thought he lost.

They only broke their kiss so that they both could breathe again, but before Castiel could dive back in for another round, Dean held him back by a finger.

“Hold on, Cas, before we go further, we should call Bobby and Sammy, To let them know what happened. You know, that I’m no longer going to hell, and that you aren’t a married guy who’s avoiding us.”

“Will you tell them the other part as well,” Castiel asked, before kissing up and down Dean’s neck, enjoying the way the taller man was melting against him. “How I’m the rightful match to your soul?”

Dean snickered weakly, “I guess that’s one way to make an engagement announcement.”

Castiel smiled against Dean’s neck. “Engagement?”

“What? You think I’m going to let you walk away again? No way in hell.”

“So tell me, Dean, what do you plan to do after this wedding announcement?”

“Well, my main plan is that we don’t leave the bedroom for a long time,” Dean’s smirk radiated through his voice. “After all, I seem to have a couple of years worth of apologies to make.”

Castiel finally pulled away from Dean to give him a mischievous smile. “I have no intentions of going easy on you.”

Dean swallowed loudly, and licked his lips. “Huh, uh, didn’t I still owe you? You know the dumbass service fee for fucking up?”

“Oh, you already paid me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, it was my soul?”

“No. You gave me back my soul. I always felt like it was missing, ever since you kicked me out of your life, but now? Now I feel whole again. Better than whole, really. I feel like—”

“You got exactly what you needed?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded, once again getting lost in those green eyes.

“Yes, exactly. Dean, you were always what I needed.”

“And I’ll always need you, Cas.”

Despite their vow to hold off on kissing until after they finally called their families, they didn’t keep that promise, and instead decided to just send Bobby and Sam a quick photo of Dean kissing Cas’ cheek.

The first reply they got back was: ‘bout damn time, ya idjits.

Followed by a second reply from Sam: Wait, isn’t Cas married?!

Dean smirked and quickly typed out: No, but he’s going to be.

And Castiel couldn’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's a miracle. I managed to write a one shot, and something under 10K! Probably will never write something this short that isn't a timestamp ever again, so I hoped you guys enjoyed it! I apologize if this was a little more rough that usual, but this was an unexpected pinch hit, and I only had 2 days to work on it.
> 
> Big thanks to my roomie for being my number one fan and helping me with edits, and Banshee for betaing and helping clear up all of my plot holes. Also want to thank Darcydelany (who didn't have time to beta this round because I already have her buried under 200K of edits) for being a listening ear.
> 
> Also major thanks to my sprint team Angelaland, Jaeh, and Threshie since there's no way I could have pulled this off without them.


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